


there is beauty in your imperfection

by everywordnotsaid



Category: Team B (Band), iKON (Kpop)
Genre: Friendship, I make myself sad, M/M, Tattoos because they're sexy as fuck, Tragic Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-18 14:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3572873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everywordnotsaid/pseuds/everywordnotsaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A life (a love) in snapshots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a slight AU, just Jiwon and Hanbin meeting earlier before they joined YG.

When Hanbin was in the first grade he first heard a rap song on the radio. It wasn’t the traditional sanjo or pansori his father listened to, sitting in their darkened living room with his eyes closed. It wasn’t the rhythmic trot his mother played as she cooked dinner or washed the dishes. It was something new, something different. It felt alive and his heart beat in time with the music.

 

When he was in third grade Hanbin started to collect hip hop music. He’d save his weekly allowance and buy used cd’s off the older boys in his school. Late at night he’d hide under the covers and listen on his beat up Sony Walkman and when he closed his eyes he could see his future in shining silver and gold.

 

In the fifth grade his teacher asked his class what they wanted to be when they grew up. Hanbin raised his hand and said “I want to be a rapper.” The kids in his class laughed and the teacher tittered and told him that wasn’t a career, that was a dream  ( and he wondered what was so wrong with that). After dinner that night his father pulled him aside and told him about responsibility and duty to his family and how that wasn’t a respectable profession. He told him that it was okay to play around as a child but now he had to think about his future. As his father lectured Hanbin sat and his fingers tapped a beat against his chair.

 

Now when he walked through the halls of his school people he could feel their eyes on his back, he pretended not to notice. One boy would call out for a freestyle every time he saw Hanbin. He looked at the ground and bit his lip till it bled. Three weeks later he asked his parents if he could switch schools. They didn’t ask why.

 

In the seventh grade when the teacher asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up he told her he wanted to take over his father’s bookstore. He learned sometimes it was better to keep your dreams to yourself.

 

When Hanbin was in ninth grade he met Jiwon. Jiwon with his crooked smile and messy hair and his eyes like lightning and thunder and the crashing of waves against the shore.

 

Jiwon didn’t ease his way into Hanbin’s life, Hanbin didn’t think he eased into anything. One day Hanbin came to class and Jiwon was there, sitting on his desk and it seemed like maybe he had always been sitting there and Hanbin had just never really looked for him before. When he saw Hanbin approaching he stood and stuck out his hand (and the words are forever burned into his memory, because they changed everything) “Hi! I’m Jiwon I just moved here from Virginia, we’re going to be great friends.”

 

He thought it was a joke. Hanbin could already tell that Jiwon was going to be one of the popular kids, the ones that everybody liked. Kid’s like him didn’t have any business being friends with kids like Hanbin. That was what he thought, he was wrong. Every day Jiwon would find him on the roof at lunch and sit down all lanky arms and legs and un-tucked uniform and talk like they had known each other. At first Hanbin sat and didn’t say a word, waiting for the day Jiwon gave up and left. But that day never came. And somewhere along the line Hanbin began to reply.

 

He often wonders why Jiwon chose him of all people. He still doesn’t have an answer, but he prays in thanks to a god he doesn’t really know if he believes in that he did.

 

They were an unlikely pair, Jiwon all friendly smiles and bright laughs. Jiwon who was popular with the girls (and boys) and everybody in between. He was unpredictable and tempestuous as a winter storm that rages one moment and is still and calm the next (there was nothing theoretical about the storm in Jiwon’s blood). Jiwon who never looked before he leaped but always landed on his feet. And Hanbin, quiet and shy and thoughtful (who wrote songs in his head instead of paying attention to his teachers), who sat in the back of class and only raised his hand when he knew the answer. For Hanbin life was a series of calculated risks, for Jiwon it was a story he didn’t know the end too.

 

Maybe that was why they fit so perfectly together, two sides of the same coin Jiwon’s mother used to say. Jiwon pushed Hanbin to do things that weren’t safe. To make decisions that aren’t triangulated and pre-mediated. To take a chance and maybe to fall (he tells him it’s okay to dream big and bold and beautiful).  And Hanbin keeps Jiwon from pulling himself apart, keeps him from being the kid you read about in the newspaper who burned to bright and to fast like a gasoline fire.

 

It’s been a month since they met when he tells him. Hanbin’s sprawled on his bed staring idly at the ceiling and Jiwon sits on the floor next to him. They’re supposed to be studying but neither of them have a head for books and the last wisps of summer cling to their minds and make the words dance and spin on the pages.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

The question is idle and meaningless but as the silence stretches between them Hanbin feels like the world is holding it’s breath, just waiting. And he isn’t sure he should tell Jiwon because he remembers his teacher’s disapproval, his fathers lecture, the looks his classmates gave him (he remembers the taste of blood in his mouth). But then he remembers this is Jiwon and out of all the people in the world he’d understand. So he tells him and the lie that was weighing down his tongue is gone and the truth tastes so much better.

Jiwon’s whole face lights up.  “That’s my dream too! We can be rappers together and be famous when we grow up!”

Jiwon has never had a problem with dreaming big.

Hanbin smiles back shyly and reaches under his bed to the box shoved far back into the corner where all of his cd’s are hidden and Jiwon’s eyes widen in awe. They spend a lazy afternoon locked in his room just listening. As the sun sets behind the tree’s that stand in front of the window and the room grows dark with shadows he turns to Hanbin and says “rap for me.”

And Hanbin does. Jiwon sits and listens with his eyes closed, like maybe the whole world was just this room and Jiwon and Hanbin and the words that fall from his lips. And in that moment maybe it is.  

 

Once he asked Jiwon “aren’t you afraid you’re going to fail?”  They’re lying on their backs on the weathered white roof of their school, the sun beating down on their skins and warming their blood and bones and Hanbin feels like this moment could last forever

“Yes, but isn’t that what makes life beautiful?”

 

Jiwon has been going to church since he was two years old. Hanbin has never set foot in one before. He never really saw Jiwon as one to believe in a higher power, a predetermined fate. Jiwon always surprises him though.

 

He goes to church with him once and the building is quiet and old and filled with years of prayers and voices calling in hope and faith, hands stretched out to dusty visages of men who lived 2,000 years ago. And as he sits and watches Jiwon pray he tries himself. The wooden floor beneath his knees is hard and cold and he feels awkward and out of place. As he clasps his hands and bows his head and prays (for what he’s not really sure) he tries his hardest to believe, but even as he closes his eyes all he can see in the darkness is Jiwon. So he prays to him instead. He wonders if Jiwon hears his prayers. _He hopes he doesn’t._

 

Jiwon has many girlfriends through his high school years, he flits from one to the next like a butterfly in a spring garden. Even the coldest girls melt when he flashes his crooked smile (and Hanbin doesn’t blame them). He’s not cruel, he’s never cruel but no one holds his interest for long and he leaves behind a trail of broken hearts. If Hanbin’s stomach tightens with jealousy when he see’s Jiwon with his arm slung casually over his current girlfriend whispering quietly into her ear he comforts himself with the fact that they may have his body but Hanbin has his heart and soul. Eventually Jiwon will leave them, but Jiwon will never leave Hanbin (and he clings to that when Jiwon trails kisses along their neck and they wrap their fingers in his hair when they think he’s not watching)

 

In tenth grade Hanbin waits by the door to an empty classroom, listening to Jiwon break up with a pretty girl named Hye-Jin. It’s a nasty one and Hanbin raises his eyebrows at a particularly vitriolic curse. He checks his watch and sighs, it’s getting late and he’s supposed to be home to watch Hanbyul in half an hour. He peeks inside just in time to see Hye-Jin pull her arm back and slap Jiwon in the face, he winces in sympathy- she’s captain of the cheer team and that’s sure to leave a mark. A moment later Jiwon walks out of the room, hand to his face and red already spreading across his cheek. “Ready to go?” he asks and Hanbin nods. Jiwon saunters off, jacket slung over his shoulder. As Hanbin’s picking up his bag Hye-Jin rushes out of the room, face tear stained and eyes swollen. She’s still beautiful. She glares at him “I hope you’re happy.” He stares at her in confusion and she scoffs “Oh don’t act all innocent, you’ve been waiting for him to dump me from day one.” Hanbin shrugs

 

“I don’t care who Jiwon dates or doesn’t date.” (he’s lying.)

 

She smiles and it’s vicious and petty and small and Hanbin used to think she was the prettiest girl in the whole school but now it looks ugly and bitter on her face.

 

“Come on. The whole school knows, you can’t really be so oblivious can you? Anyways, he’s all yours again. Just wait till he breaks _your_ heart.”

 

As she walks away the air rushes out of Hanbin’s world and suddenly he’s suffocating, choking on her words. He doesn’t breathe again until he hears Jiwon’s voice calling him from down the hall and the world spins around him and he buries what she said deep away from the light and tries to forget about it (he wonders if he’s trying to bury the truth)

 

Four years later and they’re standing on the balcony of their small apartment. The first days of winter are here, the sky is dark and grey and the cold is turning Hanbin’s fingers red. He pulls a box of Pall Mall’s from his pocket and lights one. Inhaling he feels his throat and lungs burn, holding it for a few seconds he closes his eyes and waits as the dopamine rushes through his brain. There’s something beautiful about the way he suffocates with his lungs full of air. He waits till his vision begins to blur and darken and then exhales, watching as the smoke disappears into the clouds. Jiwon watches him with distaste “Why do you smoke those things? They’re terrible for your health.” Hanbin shrugs

 

“I’d rather kill myself slowly then let the world do it all at once.”

 

It’s their first year of university and Jiwon’s been invited to a party. So of course he drags Hanbin along. They’re both drunk and he knows it, knows he should leave now before he does something that he can’t take back in the morning. But the cheap beer in his blood gives him courage and maybe it’s because nights were made for saying things you can’t in the light of tomorrow. So instead of walking away he leans forward and whispers into Jiwon’s ear

 

“ _Why did you choose me?_ ”

 

There are rings of light reflected in his eyes and Hanbin’s falls into them like Alice fell down the rabbit hole, and now there is no escape, no going back (he’s not sure if there ever was)

 

“Because I looked in your eyes and I saw myself.”

 

The next morning they sit at the small fold up table shoved into the back corner of their apartment and regret their choices. Jiwon groans loudly “I swear to fucking god I’m never getting drunk again. As my best friend I’m begging you never let me near a drink.” Hanbin just smirks

“Yeah sure. That’s what you said last week. And the week before, you dirty alcoholic”

Jiwon raises his head from the table long enough to shoot Hanbin a glare

“I’m starting to think you’re a terrible best friend.”

 

When Hanbin gets home from class in the evening Jiwon shoves a piece of paper in his face before he’s even through the door. It’s a flyer for YG entertainment. He glances at Jiwon in confusion “Is this supposed to mean something?”

 

“They’re having auditions in a week! Just think Hanbin, no more university, no more pointless classes. Just us and the music and the stage!”

And Hanbin knows they’re a little late to the start, knows the statistics of who actually makes it through, knows the life of an idol isn’t as easy, but as Jiwon paints their future as bright as the sun and the moon and the stars he already knows he’ll follow him. He’d follow Jiwon to the ends of the earth and back.

 

Three weeks later and they’re standing in a YG office listening to their new life unfold before them and Hanbin still can’t quite believe he’s there.

 

Halfway through their first year of training Hanbin gets his first tattoo. He slips out of their apartment like a shadow and takes an empty bus to the tattoo parlor. He doesn’t tell Jiwon. The flickering neon sign above the door states that it is open 24/7. When he walks in Hanbin feels a rush of adrenaline, this is dangerous and secret and the secret tastes good on his tongue.

 

As he lies on his stomach and feels the needle trail a thousand holes across his shoulder the pain feels real and sharp.

 

 

_We fear the thing we want most._

And god, Hanbin is terrified of Jiwon.

 

It’s almost four months after that night at the tattoo parlor and they’re fighting. Jiwon stalks out, his fury burning cold and hard and Hanbin lets him go because he knows how Jiwon works, knows him better then himself he thinks. And he knows he’ll be back.

 

He’s left standing alone in the practice rooms, staring at the space where Jiwon was a few seconds ago (he imagines he can feel his warmth, smell his cologne still clinging to the air) and suddenly he knows the secret he’s been carrying since the day he met Jiwon (or maybe it’s not a secret, maybe everybody knew but him). Before he knows what he’s saying the words are on the tip of his tongue and then they’ve escaped like birds from a cage and it’s to late to put them back.

 

“I love you” (and as his lips shape the sounds he marvels at how _right_ it feels to say them)

 

It echoes off the mirrored walls louder and louder and he says it again and again and the room is filled with fragmented words and the smell of Jiwon and when Hanbin looks in the mirror he sees no lie in his eyes.

 

He walks until he finds the closest church and drops to his knees hard enough to bruise and he stretches his hands to the sky and prays because now more then ever he needs someone’s hand to hold, needs someone to show him the way but the words in his mouth feel worn and tired and he knows he doesn’t belong in this place of silent faith and whispered hallelujah’s.

 

But he prays anyways ( _show me, I want to believe)_

“Forgive me father for I have sinned”

 

and when god replies it’s Jiwon’s voice he hears echoing in his head

‘what is your sin?’

 

“I am in love.”

 

That day he gets his second tattoo. Veritas vos liberabit beneath the curve of his collarbone. And it isn’t till that day Hanbin truly understands why ignorance is bliss.

 

It is exactly one month after Hanbin inked his skin dark for the second time and the redness is all but disappeared. It’s pouring outside and he and Jiwon lie sprawled side by side on the couch, listening to the sound of rain against their metal roof. Jiwon reaches out and traces the letters tattooed on his chest and his finger feels like fire. “What does it mean?” he asks and his breathe whispers along Hanbin’s neck

 

“The truth shall set you free.”

 

“And has it?”

 

The gentle curve of his neck is inches from Hanbin’s face and the smell of sweat and cologne and something else he can’t place (it smells like Jiwon, it smells like home) wraps itself around his neck and seeps into his skin. It’s infuriating, intoxicating and it’s driving Hanbin crazy. He wants to press his lips to Jiwon’s face and neck and the palms of his slender hands, wants to kiss away the feeling in both of them till nothing remains but Jiwon’s touch burning lines into Hanbin’s skin. Jiwon’s face is so close to his and Hanbin feels his breath catch in his throat. He stands abruptly and the room feels claustrophobic and hot, the air sticking to his skin. Jiwon looks up at him in confusion “What’s wrong?”

 

And he wants to scream what’s wrong is that I’m in love with you and I think it might be killing me but of all the things in the world Hanbin can bear to lose Jiwon isn’t one of them. So he just shakes his head and walks to the bathroom. He locks the door behind him and slides to the floor and when he puts his hand to his heart it’s thumping so fast against his palm he can’t count the beats and he knows the truth hasn’t set him free, it’s just made the lie more painful.

 

That night he goes out. He wanders into the first club he finds and he gets drunk, drunker then he’s been in a long time. He throws back shot after shot and the man behind the bar looks concerned after his fifth drink but even tequila can’t erase the fiery lines Jiwon branded on his chest.

 

There’s a commotion on the small stage at the back of the club and he hears people screaming. He asks the bartender what’s going on.

“Thursday nights we have a freestyle rap battle. Anyone can enter, just for kicks you know.”

 

So he turns to watch and almost laughs because he knows even as plastered as he is he could do so much better. They call for another challenger and because he’s wasted and because he’s hurting and because wants to remember what it feels like not to lose he pulls himself to his feet and raises his hand.

 

The man opposite him on the stage is the kind of guy who peaked in high school and hasn’t yet accepted that the world just doesn’t care anymore. The kind of guy who thinks other people are a problem that can be solved with four fingers and a thumb and the sound of knuckles against skin. He’s the kind of guy Hanbin hates.

 

Hanbin lets him go first and his words are clumsy and slurred and filled with overconfidence and alcohol. He almost feels sorry for the man but when he finishes he flips him off with a grin that’s all teeth and the feeling disappears as quickly as it came. And then it’s Hanbin’s turn. It’s quick and dirty and cruel and full of an anger he doesn’t know what to do with (and Hanbin knows if he wasn’t so drunk, if he wasn’t so terrified he’d feel bad but he’s both and he so doesn’t feel anything at all). He wins of course. The man glowers at him and slinks off stage with a muttered curse. Hanbin watches him go with a bitter taste in his mouth and the cheers and shouts ring hollow in his ears. Winning doesn’t feel so good after all.

 

The prize is a free drink that Hanbin probably doesn’t need. He downs it anyway. As he sits at the bar, head in his hands and Jiwon’s name on his lips a girl sidles up to him and even in the darkness of the club he can see she’s beautiful. All dark eyes and red lipstick and its obvious what she wants from the way lets her fingers brush against his shoulder with the promise of more. And because he’s weak, because he can’t stop thinking about Jiwon’s skin against his he gives it to her.

 

They’re tucked in a secluded corner and she’s pressed up against him and the curves of her body feel wrong, her soft hands that tug and pull at his hair and scratch at his neck feel wrong (Jiwon’s hands are rough and strong). At the thought he kisses her harder, trying to remember, trying to forget. But even as he pulls her closer she pulls away and whispers “you’re in love aren’t you.” and it’s not a question. Hanbin wonders if he should deny it, but the lie feels heavy in his throat and he doesn’t really see the point anymore so instead he just asks

 

“How can you tell?”

 

“Only somebody who’s in love knows how to hate like that. Only somebody who’s in love kisses like they’re trying to win a war.”

 

And there’s a sadness in her eyes that tells him maybe she’s a little in love too.

 

 

It’s at that moment the man from earlier chooses to punch him in the face. For a second he just reels, a ringing in his ears and blood slowly dripping from his nose and the world goes black and white but then the rage takes over and it goes red. And all the anger (anger at Jiwon for letting him fall in love, anger at himself for being stupid enough to do it) and pain and despair gather and it’s a ball of fire in his stomach and lungs and fist and he’s hitting him again and again and again and when the man manages to get a punch in he barely feels the pain. But there are hands on his arms pulling him back, dragging him away and voices shouting in his ears (the girl with the red lipstick stands eyes wide and surprised like a deer in the headlights) and then he’s out the door and stumbling down the street. It’s still raining.

 

He throws up in the gutter on the side of the road and sits, feeling water and mud soak into his pants. Heavy drops run down his face and he thinks he might be crying but he can’t really tell. His mouth tastes salt and he doesn’t know if it’s tears or blood or maybe it’s both.

 

When Hanbin was eight years old he saw the look in his father’s eyes when he watched his mother dance around the kitchen. He saw the way his mother would gently run her fingers through his father’s hair and he had thought that was love. Now he’s 22 and he’s learned love can be desperate and cruel, it can be wanting something you can’t ever have. It can be the taste of blood and tears mixing in the rain.

 

When he gets home Jiwon is waiting up for him. His eyes widen when he see’s Hanbin’s swelling face.

 

“Jesus Hanbin”

 

His voice is low and breathy and tired and Hanbin wonders if he’s mad. His eyes are tight and angry but his fingers when they brush the bruise on his cheek are gentle.

 

It’s two weeks after Jiwon’s 23rd birthday and he’s throwing clothes in a bag. Hanbin stands opposite him, pale and cold “You’re not seriously moving out are you? Where are you gonna stay?”

 

“I’ll move into the dorms.”

It’s short and biting. If this was a usual fight Hanbin would let him leave. Knowing he’d be back in a few hours with a sheepish grin on his face and an apology on his lips. But this doesn’t feel like a usual fight. There’s something final about the set of Jiwon’s eyes (it frightens Hanbin)

 

“You don’t have to leave.”

 

Jiwon stops now, hands still grasping at half folded shirts and the fight drains out of him, his shoulders fall. He turns to Hanbin

 

“There’s something eating you alive Hanbin. And you won’t tell me what it is. I won’t-I can’t stay here and watch you destroy yourself. I’m sorry. I’m just not going to do it.”

 

And then he’s finished packing his clothes (finished with Hanbin) and zipping his suitcase and Hanbin knows with a knot in his stomach that Jiwon can’t leave. If he leaves he’ll lose him forever and the thought is terrifying, unimaginable.

 

“If you want to talk to me I’ll always listen.”

 

And he hears the goodbye hidden in those words.

 

When Hanbin was six he choked on piece of apple. He remembers the visceral panic of _I can’t breathe._ He remembers the world growing blurry and indistinct, remembers the pain in his lungs. He feels like he’s choking now.

 

When he was six years old his father strong hands were there to let him breathe again. But now he has no ones hands but his own to save himself. And he doesn’t know if they’re strong enough.

 

“I love you.”

 

The words slip from his mouth like that piece of apple (and Hanbin can breathe, the air rushing back into his lungs, the color into his world)

 

They hang in the air between them and he wants to reach out and grab them and stuff them back down his throat because he meant to take this secret to the grave and he thinks choking might be better then the look on Jiwon’s face. But he can’t so he just watches the anger bleed into shock.

 

Jiwon’s so beautiful (and god his eyes are dark and bright all at the same time and Hanbin remembers the party four years ago and the words he said then)

 

They are so close that Hanbin can see the scar just below Jiwon’s lip (Hanbin gave it to him in the tenth grade when he shoved him off a chair, Hanbin felt terrible but Jiwon just laughed with blood running down his chin) and suddenly his lips are on Jiwon’s and his hands are on his back, his neck, curling in his hair, trying to know every inch of him like he’s wanted to for so long. He remembers the girl with the red lipstick and that night in the club and wonders how kissing Jiwon can feel so different. And as he memorizes the taste of Jiwon’s mouth on his (it tastes like blood and lust and love) he thinks for a moment that everything is going to be okay.

 

Then Jiwon’s hands are on his shoulder and as they gently push him away he feels his heart crumble. Jiwon looks at him and his eyes are sad (they are still beautiful even in their grief)

“ _I’m so sorry_.”

 

Hanbin runs. Out the door and down the street and past the church where he bruised his knees on the floor and raised his hands to heaven (it wasn’t enough it was never enough). He runs and runs till his breath is fire and he can feel his heart against his ribs

 

_I don’t need you._

_I don’t need you._

_I don’t need you._

_I need you._

 

His third tattoo is a date. He brands it just above his heart.

 

Jiwon finds him, sitting on the edge of the Han River with his feet dangling into eternity. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to because so many words have been said between them. And maybe they’ve used up all their words (he doesn’t regret a single one) so they sit side by side and watch as the sun sinks into the trees and sets the sky on fire and finally when it is dark and only the stars are there for company Jiwon asks

“Are you okay?”

And he’s not, he’s not okay at all. But he nods and when Jiwon reaches out his hand he takes it.

 

That night as he lies in his bed listening to Jiwon breath in and out he tells himself that everything has to come to an end sometime, and he swears he’s telling the truth when he tells himself he doesn’t miss the hope that maybe this wouldn’t. He tells himself he can’t miss something he never had. He does anyway.

 

He’s never been one for talking, the words in his head never seem come out right. Awkward and recalcitrant they stubbornly cling and bump in his mouth. He prefers to put his words down on paper. So that’s what he does now. That summer he writes and writes and writes (writes so he will always remember what it was to love Jiwon) and the ink stains his hands dark. And he thinks as he writes maybe he can dye his heart as black and cold as the tips of his fingers.

 

It’s fall now, the air is growing cold and the trees are turning color. Things are better. Their debut is just around the corner and the dreams they shared in ninth grade are so close to coming true. And now when he looks at Jiwon the ache in his heart is all but gone, and when he says he’s okay it’s not such a lie anymore. The wind blows and he shivers, pulling his jacket closer to him.

_He thinks sometimes the hardest part of letting go is starting over. And he doesn’t really think he’s ever stopped loving Jiwon (doesn’t know if he ever will), he’ll just have to learn to find a new beginning._

 

Dry leaves tremble and dance in the breeze and fall spiraling to the ground. He watches them float away on the wind and with them floats two boys, lying under the sun on a weathered white roof, wishing for forever.

 

 


	2. Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would have happened if things had gone the other way?

They are so close that Hanbin can see the scar just below Jiwon’s lip (Hanbin gave it to him in the tenth grade when he shoved him off a chair, Hanbin felt terrible but Jiwon just laughed with blood running down his chin) and suddenly his lips are on Jiwon’s and his hands are on his back, his neck, curling in his hair, trying to know every inch of him like he’s wanted to for so long. He remembers the girl with the red lipstick and that night in the club and wonders how kissing Jiwon can feel so different. And as he memorizes the taste of Jiwon’s mouth on his (it tastes like blood and lust and love) 

Then Jiwon’s hands are on his shoulders, gently pushing him away and his heart crumbles. He looks at Hanbin and his eyes are dark and wild, lips swollen and he feels something in him break. Jiwon breathes a single word against his ear, delicate and soft and full of so much wanting

Finally

And Jiwon’s hands are on his shoulders again (as desperate and searching as his) but this time they pull and twist and tug closer and closer and Hanbin lets himself fall. Lets Jiwon press him up against the wall so hard he feels every crack carve canyons and valleys into his skin. He lets Jiwon kiss him till his vision blurs around the edges and when Jiwon leaves purple-blue bruises down his collarbone he just wraps his fingers in Jiwon’s hair and closes his eyes.

The most beautiful song he’s heard is the sound of his name on Jiwon’s lips. 

Now he goes to church with Jiwon every Sunday. He’s still not sure he believes but he remembers the day he bruised his knees and bared his throat to whatever heaven there might be and he thinks maybe somebody heard him. He looks at Jiwon, head bent and eyes closed (lips mouthing words he will never quite understand) and there is something fragile about the moment. Sunlight filters through the stained glass windows and paints the lines and angles of his face purple and red and gold and he wonders if this is what it’s like to see god. When Jiwon turns to smile at Hanbin and his eyes light with stars and galaxies just for him he thinks he might understand what he’s praying for. 

It’s one am on a Tuesday night and they lie in bed, a tangle of arms and legs. And he finally asks

“Why didn’t you tell me”

Jiwon is silent for a moment and when he replies his voice is so quiet Hanbin has to strain to hear it

“Because I was afraid.”

And the idea of Jiwon being afraid is so out of place Hanbin almost laughs. Because Jiwon is not afraid, not of anything. And especially not of him. But as they lay there Jiwon takes Hanbin’s hand in his and presses it to the skin above his heart and he feels each hurried, divine thump against his palm (and he thanks god for every beat, for each second he has with Jiwon) and he feels the fear raw and wild mirrored in his own so he whispers back 

“I’m still afraid.”  
(afraid to lose what he has now, afraid that tomorrow he might wake up an realize this was all a dream) 

But as Jiwon carves his name onto Hanbin’s skin he thinks at least now they can be afraid together. 

Sometimes they love like they hate. And sometimes Jiwon bites his lip a little too hard, Hanbin leaves scratches a little too deep down his back. It is violence and anger and they throw kisses like punches and when they say I love you it sounds like something else. 

And sometimes they love like the world is made of glass. And when their lips meet it is fleeting and vulnerable, the brush of butterfly wings against his cheek. And sometimes it feels like if they hold each other too tight they’ll shatter, so instead they lay side by side, hands intertwined and whisper all the things they never could before (all the words they were too afraid to say)

Hanbin traces the constellations on Jiwon’s back and thinks there’s something beautiful about the way their fingers fit together.

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:  
> Sanjo- meaning scattered melodies; traditional Korean music, usually accompanied by drumming  
> Pansori- Korean genre of musical storytelling; folk type music


End file.
